Torae
Clap Sh*t Up (ft. Phonte)
(Torae)
Want to hear my old sh*t buy my old albums
If you really love it why I only sold thousands?
By the grace of God I made it out of housing
But I’m still Coney isle styling
Wild as a stallion and cocky, had to go Rambo to get my wrist rocky
Cheddar drenched broccoli
That’s what’s on my pallet in my rally
Wardrobe was war mode, now I got a stylist
Now you want to smile miss? Miss me
On the hardwood where the Knicks be flickered up Melo drop 60
Shifty low down gritty and
I’m just doing this till my city is the sh*t again
Dropped barrel brothers it was notable
Make you a believer my verse ain’t get a quotable so f*ck it I’m over you
No f*ck it I’m ovеr due none of y’all bettеr
Bar for bar, line for line, to the letter
I came from EBT made it on to BET
F.U.S.E. , MTV, MP3
Vinyl and CD all off the P.E.N
Now it’s 6 days on SXM
And I’m just getting started, you could hit the target
Or fill out applications for Target
You on one I’m off it probably want to forfeit
How you supposed to score vs Tor and now its raw sh*t
Aw sh*t I’m still beasting the bars, flow shit Malik and Jamal
Still bodying every beat that I’m on
Any street that I’m on, I’m a sight still
Shine like a million-dollar light bill
Even Bun B know I’m type trill, type ill, might steal your missis
Treat it like a 4-course meal and do the dishes
Scratch off my wish list, add to my f*ck it list
Name an MC that can f*ck with this
Probably had to add to your bucket list, bucket this, blam
That’s the only way you could body me fam
Pardon me, damn I gotta go
Brought in Tigallo to clap the sh*t up some more
(Phonte)
Me and my man’s on an award tour
But the crowd screaming for more Tor
And Tigallo on the assist, he’s the orator
You can count on just like a scoreboard
But what the f*ck you keeping score for when the L is imminent
Scrimmaging against you feminine niggas in boy shorts
Kitten heel raps scratching up the floor boards
In a top hat you rap niggas is Boy George
I attack tracks with more force
And more anger than a gangster in a Russian divorce court
Mad cause his wife is going after his stored Porsche
So she can make some more borscht
Then he really want to call her a bi... but if he calls her a bi…
The judge gon tell him that he’s a poor sport
Respect my mind, I testify
But on a track
Your favorite rapper will get left behind
Like he got an F in a core course
Not her to lollygag, I specialize in body bags
And if we in the streets mother*ck an autograph
The only signature that I need is 4-4
So I can run amuck, I
Just lay low in the buck-eye
Don’t really claim to be a tough guy but never been the shook type
Last name “Look like”, First name “F*ck I”
Raised in the Marly Marl era so you better call Saul
And tell Saul to call pallbearers
Just a little Tigallo will make it all better
So f*ck the radio stations and all the call letters
Cause my rhyme commodities go off like IED’s
Lines go over your head and stay there like the sword of Damocles
Peace to Skyzoo, Odyssey
And plus the old school, the Hercs, the Bams, and the Toddy Tees
When I become a legend just acknowledge me fam
Pardon me, damn I gotta go
Yall clap sh*t up, I give it a standing O
